


it's a nice day for a [White Wedding]

by ll_again



Series: Phases of Domestication [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Buzzfeed quizzes, Couch Sex, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, Kitchen Sex, References to Leverage, Sebastian Moran is Eliot Spencer, Tobias Hooper-Moriarty, Vivienne Westwood (mentioned), Wedding Planning, all the sex, all the skulls, exhibitionist!Molly, skulls - Freeform, skulls everywhere, the key to world peace lies in Molly's tuna mayonnaise, the shit Seb puts up with, there is a bit of a theme going on here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ll_again/pseuds/ll_again
Summary: The wedding of James Moriarty to Molly Hooper can be nothing less than a momentous occasion. In his speech, their best man recounts some of the juicier bits of Jim and Molly's journey into matrimony.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ribcage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribcage/gifts).



> Ribcage (@blessmoriarty on Tumblr) asked if I'd do a Molliarty wedding in the Club Calavera universe. It took me AGES, because somehow Plot Happened and now this universe has taken on a life of its own, but here it finally is! Hope you enjoy!

"Pray silence for the best man."

Sebastian Moran stood, flicked irritably at his coattails, adjusted his tie uncomfortably, and swept his eyes over the assembled guests. Molly's half of the room was populated with old friends, a select few colleagues, and a smattering of cousins that made up what she had left in the way of family. Jim didn't have friends or any family he actually spoke to, but not to be outdone, he'd invited the who's who of the criminal underworld – all in the country under carefully constructed false identities, of course.

Clearing his throat, Seb tapped the stack of notecards against his hand, licked his lips, and began, "When Jim asked me to be his best man, my first thought was that he was setting me up to fail so he'd have a reason to have me assassinated."

There was a smattering of polite laughter from the guests, only half of whom actually thought that Seb was joking about the assassination bit.

"Oh, there's still time for that, Moran," Jim said lazily.

He turned to his wife and touched the back of his finger to her cheek with a smile that softened his eyes. It was an odd gesture for the intensely personal man to preform in such a public setting but Seb (and Jim's half of the guests) couldn't mistake it for anything than the very clear message he was projecting.

_This woman is mine, and I will destroy anyone who touches her._

Seb gave it a beat to let that sink in.

"Little did I know," he continued, "the real threat was from the bride-to-be."

…

 _"James. Aragorn. Moriarty!" Molly shrieked as she slammed into the Chelsea flat. "How_ dare _you ask Sebbie to be your best man!"_

_Sebastian trailed in behind the Five Foot Fury, rubbing his ear as he paused to inspect the front door. It had been bounced off the wall all too frequently since the boss got engaged. 'Aragorn?' he mouthed silently, brow furrowed while he shut the door, checking to see the lock clicked into place. "Isn't that that guy? From the thing with the elves and shit?"_

_On the couch, Jim's eyes slid shut in an expression of long-held aggravation. "You can only kill your parents once, Moran," he said. "So make sure to make it count."_

_Sebastian leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest as he squinted at his boss. "He's the one who…?"_

_"Yes." Jim sighed._

_"Huh. That actually … explains a lot," Sebastian said._

_The Five Foot Fury stamped her foot with a strangled scream. "We are getting a bit off topic," Molly said through gritted teeth. "Sebbie can't be your best man, because he's going to walk me down the aisle."_

_Jim 'humph'ed, flipping a page of his magazine nonchalantly but still watching Molly out of the corner of his eye. "Nooooope," he said, drawing out the word and loudly popping the 'p' at the end._

_Molly snarled. "It's not up to you."_

_Jim paused in the midst of turning another page, eyes flicking from side to side. "It kind of is."_

_"Sebbie…" Molly said, turning to the bodyguard._

_"Hell no," he replied, holding up his hands. "Leave me out of this."_

_"Walk me down the aisle," Molly said, tucking her hands behind her back as she sashayed closer to Sebastian, fluttering her eyelashes, "and I'll start calling you by your real name."_

_Sebastian clicked his tongue, glancing over to Jim. "You don't know my real name," he pointed out._

_Molly paused mid-shashay. "Well. I will learn it," she said stiffly._

_Jim shut the magazine with a loud slap, smacking it onto the coffee table. "Molly," he said. "My bell. My darling. My sweet."_

_The Five Foot Fury was not impressed by the dry recitation of endearments. She pivoted on her heel, hands on hips. "What?"_

_Standing, Jim flicked imaginary dust off his trousers before coming around the couch to touch two fingers under Molly's chin, placing a gentle kiss to her lips. "You don't_ need _anyone to walk you down the aisle. Do you?" His dark eyes glittered with unsuppressed pride._

_Molly flushed prettily. Fingers still lingering under her chin, Jim dipped his head to put his lips to her neck, drawing a moan from his fiancée._

_"For fuck's- I'm still in the room," Seb shouted._

_Jim lifted his head from Molly's neck. "Then leave."_

_"Or stay," Molly giggled, looping her arms around Jim's neck and drawing him back._

_One look at the boss, and Seb slipped out the door. Jim's victories were few and far between, but to be fair, he certainly earned every one of them._

…

"Molly Hooper, as many of you know, is a force to be reckoned with," Seb continued. This time, he was certain, it was Molly's half of the room who knew he wasn't making a joke. "Although she may not look it." Seb flashed the petite woman a grin.

Molly sipped delicately at her champagne. "I know where you sleep, Moran," she said sweetly, eyes glinting with humor over the edge of her glass.

He tipped his head towards her, smirking. "That James Moriarty decided to enter into matrimony was, putting it lightly, a bit of a shock to those who know him. So it should go without saying that the woman who caught him is nothing less than extraordinary."

Jim slipped an arm around his wife, both of them clearly pleased with Seb's stunningly accurate assessment.

"In fact, even in the early days of their relationship, Molly was achieving things no one ever thought possible."

…

 _The door to Jim's office slammed open. "What. Is._ This _!" he shouted to the general assembly: Sebastian Moran and two useless lackeys about to be made redundant on general principal._

_Seb glanced up from the knives he'd gotten off some second rate thugs sent to kill them a few days earlier – nice pieces but they'd been poorly maintained, no surprise there. "Looks like the sandwich Molly put in your lunch."_

_Very slowly, Jim glanced sideways and up at the sandwich he was brandishing over his head. "...well."_

_"Why?" Seb asked absently, squinting at the edge of the knife he was sharpening while he tested it against his thumb. "She put mayonnaise on it or something?"_

_Jim twitched. The lackeys, being smarter than average for their type, scrambled for cover._

_Bringing the sandwich down to face level, Jim stared at it as though it contained all the secrets of the universe. "Molly made me lunch?"_

_"Yup." Seb set down the knife he'd been sharpening, satisfied with it, and picked up the second one. "Brought it by this morning on her way to work. Isn't there a note in the bag?"_

_Slowly, Jim glanced back at his desk to the brown bag that Molly had dropped off. "Ah." His eyebrows did an Olympic-level acrobatic routine as he processed this fact. "Why?"_

_Only the realization that he'd literally be a dead man if he smiled at Jim's confusion kept Seb's face straight. "She likes you, man."_

_Jim's face moved on from acrobatics into a full on, three act ballet as he stared at the sandwich, which was now dripping mayonnaise on the floor._

_"Dude, you don't have to eat it," Seb pointed out. "You can just explain that you don't like mayo. Molly will understand."_

_"I love mayo," Jim said through gritted teeth. "It is my favorite."_

_The lackeys exchanged a bewildered glance, and Seb shook his head, indicating they should keep silent. Now was not the time to remind the boss that he'd once threatened to burn down a safehouse after finding an unopened packet of mayonnaise in the kitchen._

_"No calls, Moran," Jim said as he retreated back into his office. "I'm eating." And he slammed the door shut just as violently as it had opened._

_An hour later, Seb was called into the office. The sandwich wrapper was in the trash, minus the sandwich, and Molly's note – a pink, heart-shaped post-it – taped to Jim's monitor._

…

Seb paused. This story wasn't one he was willing to share with the crowd, but he couldn't help it from coming to mind whenever he thought of the things Jim was willing to do just to appease Molly's whims.

…

_As soon as Seb walked into the living room, he froze. At two in the afternoon on a Thursday, the last thing he'd expected to see was the sight that greeted him._

_Molly's slender hands were clutched into the plush fabric along the back of the couch, bracing herself as she knelt on the cushions. From the angle where Seb was standing, he couldn't see anything more risque than the curve of her hip – and Seb was currently thanking every deity he could think of for_ that _– but it was clear that she was stark naked. As if the brightly colored clothes strewn over the floor weren't enough of a clue._

_In contrast, Jim, standing behind her, was fully dressed, immaculate as always except for the sag around his knees that indicated his trousers were gaping open. His hand was settled into the curve of Molly's waist, and he moved in a steady motion that was unmistakable._

_Jim's eyes pinned Seb before he could edge back out of the room with a flat gaze that betrayed nothing. "Something for you, Moran?"_

_"Uhh…"_

_Molly's head popped up and she braced her chin on the couch, eyes sparkling brightly and face flushed. "Oh, hi, Sebbie," she said breathlessly._

_Seb felt his own face get hot. "It can wait," he said quickly, reaching behind him blindly for the doorknob._

_"Don't…" Molly broke off with a little gasp. "Don't let me interrupt you."_

_Jim's hand moved away from Molly's waist, sliding out of sight under her torso, and Molly's eyelids fluttered shut._

_Without another word, Seb fled. Jim may have been willing to indulge Molly's sudden exhibitionist streak, but he wasn't so willing to play along._

…

Not daring to glance towards the newlyweds, Seb cleared his throat, again, and continued, "But I'll confess, there were a few times when I thought this wedding might not go off as planned. These two argued about everything from the hors d'oeuvres to the font on the wedding invitations."

…

_Deathly silent, Jim stalked through the flat, a rectangular piece of cardstock clenched in one hand, stomping extra loudly on the hardwoods for dramatic effect. On the couch, Molly didn't lift her head from the bridal magazine she was perusing. In the kitchen, Seb watched him disappear into his office, then jumped as he realized his sauteing onions were about to burn._

_The office door opened a moment later, and Jim stalked back out, still holding the card in one hand, and a lighter in the other. He stopped in front of the coffee table, facing Molly, and flicked open the lighter, setting the flame to the corner of the card. As the flames licked up the heavy paper, Jim held it by the edge, rotating it to keep it burning as long as possible before dropping the last corner to the marble surface of the table._

_"I know," Molly said, flicking a page in her magazine. She hadn't once looked up during the display. "Serif. What was I thinking?"_

_Still without a word, Jim pivoted on his heel and stomped back to his office, slamming the door shut behind him. Molly finally closed her magazine, tapping the flat of it to the smoldering remains to make sure they were out with several loud smacks. She took a quick peek at the back of the magazine to make sure it wasn't on fire, then set it aside and stood, stretching leisurely._

_Molly sauntered over to the breakfast bar, leaning against it and peeking over the edge at the stove. "What's for dinner?" she said, positively cherubic in her virtuous cheer. "It smells divine."_

_Seb gave the onions another stir. "So you're fighting over fonts now?"_

_Reaching over the bar to the attached counter, Molly stole a piece of carrot from the chopping board, grinning widely at him when Seb made a disapproving noise. "Of course not. Jim's mad because I put our middle names on the sample invitation."_

_"I'll say nice things about you at your funeral," Seb said, slapping her hand away before she could steal another carrot._

_"If there's going to be a funeral, bet it won't be mine," Molly sang in an astoundingly creepy imitation of her fiancé._

_Seb sighed, rubbing his temples. There was a rustling noise as Molly snatched more carrots, and his head snapped up. "Hey!"_

_"Jim doesn't like carrots," Molly said through a mouthful. "'m doing you a favor."_

_"It needs the sweetness of the carrot to balance out the-" Seb groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Never mind. Will you go sort out this invitation business? They need to be sent out next week."_

_Molly hopped onto a barstool and giggled. "They're sorted," she said. "Obviously, I'm not putting middle names on the invitations. Jim would slaughter our entire guest list. I'm just holding out until he agrees that black, silver, and yellow is a_ much _more sophisticated color scheme than black, silver, and_ red _." She rolled her eyes._

_Seb dumped the peppers and carrots into the pan, holding back a last carrot piece for Molly, which he handed over. "You're blackmailing a somewhat psychopathic, criminal mastermind over an accent color?"_

_"Yup!" Molly popped the carrot in her mouth, speaking around it, "We can't do red, Sebbie. It doesn't match Meena's coloring at all, and besides, it's sooo cliché. Next thing you know, Jim's going to want to put hearts on the skulls."_

_Seb glanced over Molly's cherry printed cardigan and the sugar skull barrettes in her hair with – yes – heart shaped eye sockets, then busied himself stirring dinner, ducking his head to hide a smile. After all, he hadn't survived this long in life without learning when to keep his mouth shut._

…

"No points for guessing who won that one," Seb finished the story with a grin, gesturing to the yellow accents around the room.

Molly leaned a bit back in her chair, a smug smile plastered on her face as she glanced to the side at her new husband. Jim lifted an eyebrow, finally tilting his head and closing his eyes in the ever so slightest concession to a well-won victory.

"But the fighting never lasted for long."

Shifting restlessly, Seb licked his lips and checked his cards. This was a story that was too good not to share, albeit it needed to be heavily edited for obvious reasons.

…

_Groceries in hand, Seb walked into the flat and very nearly walked out again. A pair of skull-printed knickers was lying innocently by the corner of the kitchen's island._

_Their owner was sitting_ on his countertop _, her fiancé's head mostly hidden under her skirt._

_"Hell no," Seb snapped, setting the bag on the breakfast bar. In his rage, the full force of his Southern accent slipped out, "This is not happenin'. Not in my kitchen."_

_Jim's head popped up, and he straightened, although he didn't turn around. "Not now, Moran," he drawled lazily, "I'm eating."_

_Molly giggled, hands pressed her her cheeks as she pretended to be embarrassed. "Sorry, Sebbie," she said, not at all sounding it._

_"I_ make food _on that counter!" Seb said. "Food! That we eat! There are limits, Doctor Hooper."_

_Jim whirled around, clearly not taken with Seb's tone, and narrowed his eyes as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand._

_Most people with any amount of good sense would have quailed at being on the receiving end of that look from Jim Moriarty. But Sebastian Moran was not having it today. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted an eyebrow._

_"Y'all stop fucking in my kitchen," he said, "or I stop cooking."_

_Molly squeaked in alarm, sliding off the counter and grabbing Jim's arm. "Of course, Seb," she said, instantly contrite. "We're very sorry, aren't we, Jim?"_

_Wide-eyed, Jim slowly turned his head to stare at her. Molly stared back, lifting her eyebrows as they launched into a silent conversation. Molly gestured irritably at the stove; Jim made a face and gestured down the Westwood, as if to say 'do I look like I take orders from anybody?'_

_Patiently, Seb waited, settling his weight on his heels._

_Several more exchanges of eyebrow waggles and impatient gestures later, Jim finally turned to Seb and said, "Why of_ course _we'd never dream of defiling the sanctity of your kitchen, Moran." A beat, and then, "What's for dinner?"_

_Seb lifted his hand off of his crossed arm just enough to point towards the exit, "Out."_

_Jim was squinting at the groceries. "Cottage pie and … chocolate mousse?"_

_Wide-eyed with childish excitement, Molly clutched at Jim's arm and squeaked, "Is it chocolate mousse?"_

_"_ Out _!" Seb bellowed, sending the pair scrambling towards the bedroom like a pair of naughty schoolchildren. He looked down and sighed, then yelled after them, "And take your damn panties with you!"_

_At least, Seb conceded silently while he dug under the sink, being employed by a criminal mastermind meant they were never short of bleach._

…

"Jim's flat has always been tidy, especially for a bachelor pad, but it entered a whole new level of clean after he got engaged," Seb said, throwing the newlyweds a sly look.

He wasn't just talking about the housekeeping, either. Gone were the days when Moriarty's basest thugs would tramp through the Chelsea flat at all hours, often covered in gore if they were in reporting on a successful job. Aside from keeping such people away from Molly, Jim's new policy had done wonders for the life of the carpet.

Pink cheeked, Molly pressed her lips together to cover up an unrepentant grin, glancing at her husband, who lifted his eyebrows at her.

Eliot shook his head almost despairingly at their total lack of remorse, and carried on, "Jim and Molly may not have had too much in common when the first met, but it didn't take them long to share every one of their obsessions. In fact, anyone who's spent much time with these two will tell you that they've probably shared a bit _too_ much."

…

_Fifteen minutes before they were due to be across town, meeting the Koreans in one of Jim's ratty, abandoned warehouses, the boss was still glued to his chair, hunched over and staring at his laptop's screen. When Jim was in that particular position, Seb knew better than to disrupt him, because he was bound to be engaged in something both delicately fiddly and with the potential to be wildly destructive. The last time someone had disturbed Jim when he was concentrating this hard, the London Stock Market had crashed._

_Four hours early than was planned. The henchman responsible was never seen again._

_But they couldn't put off the Koreans for a third time. Not if they wanted this deal to go through, anyway. So Seb girded his loins (somewhat literally; Jim was scarily accurate with the paperweight), and knocked on the open door._

_"NOT NOW," Jim said, irritably jabbing at his touchpad. Then, under his breath, "Who the hell is Idris Elba?"_

_Oh. With a sigh, Seb scrubbed a hand over his face. Instead of answering, he unlocked his phone, dialing the most frequently called number._

_Molly answered on the second ring. "Hey, Seb. Is this important? Because I've got a frozen brain here ready to be sliced and diced."_

_"Really didn't need that image, thanks," he said. "Listen. Will you stop sending Jim those Buzzfeed quizzes?"_

_"Oh." Molly burst into giggles. "Let me talk to him."_

_"Boss," Seb said, waggling the phone at Jim. "Molly."_

_As expected, that immediately caught Jim's attention, and he neatly caught the phone when Seb tossed it at him. "Yes, darling? … I got," his face screwed up as he squinted at his screen, "Idris Elba? Who is- oh, of course."_

_There was a much longer pause while Jim pressed his lips together, eyes narrowing dangerously. When he spoke, his words were as frigid as one of the specimens Molly was cryosectioning. "You want to do_ what _to Idris Elba?"_

 _Another pause, and Jim lifted his chin, sniffing haughtily. "Well, you can't. According to this, he's_ my _celebrity boyfriend."_

_Still in the doorway, Seb pinched the bridge of his nose to hold back a sigh._

_"No, I am not neglecting my business to 'faff about' on Buzzfeed." And finally, Jim shut his laptop and stood, raising his eyebrows at Seb and gesturing like 'well? I'm waiting on you now', before his attention snapped back to the phone. "Sebbie's internal digestion is his own business, darling … yes … yes, of course we don't want him to get an ulcer, but-"_

_Seb, heading towards the door, keys jingling in his impatient hand, snorted loudly._

_"Molly-bell," he said, outwardly exasperated, but even with Jim behind him, Seb could hear the smile on his face. "For the last time, I am not 'taking over the world'. World domination is terribly dull. And it does put such a crimp in date night."_

_They left the flat, not bothering to lock the door; Jim owned the whole house. The floors below the penthouse flat were occupied by various trappings of the business._

_"I have to go, we're at the lift," he said. "Do you want Korean for dinner?"_

_Seb slapped the lift button and turned just in time to see Jim's face fall into his hand._

_"No, I am not going to murder the Koreans and have Seb serve them up for dinner," Jim said, a pained sort of resignation for Molly's horrid sense of humor leaking into his voice._

_Genuinely caught off guard, Seb burst into laughter, bracing himself against the wall next to the lift._

_Jim scrubbed his hand over his face, shooting Seb a look as he dragged his fingers down. "Yes, Seb thinks you're_ hilarious _," he drawled into the phone. "Do you want me to bring home bulgogi tonight or not?"_

_The lift dinged, doors sliding open. Jim ushered Seb in first. His voice lowered as he signed off, so Seb couldn't hear what he said, but Jim's eyes were glittering in a way that was all too familiar._

_Hanging up, Jim stepped into the lift and passed Seb's phone back to him. "Find out where Idris Elba lives."_

_"Yeah," Seb said, pocketing his phone. Then, "Wait. What are you going to do?"_

_A wide, wicked grin bloomed over Jim's face that was far from reassuring. "Send him flowers, of course," he said. "That man gives my Molly the_ best _ideas."_

…

"But there is one thing they share that no one can contest."

…

 _Jim literally_ skipped _into the room from his office, open laptop clutched in both hands. "I," he said triumphantly, depositing the computer onto the breakfast bar in front of Molly, "have found it."_

_Molly pulled her fork out of her mouth, twisting to put it back on her plate, which had been unceremoniously displaced by Jim's enthusiasm. "He's not gonna like it," she said through a full mouth._

_"He wi~ill." Jim hopped into the other barstool, the one that was placed in front of where Molly's plate now sat. "Junior is going to loooove it."_

_"Jim," Molly sighed, closing the laptop. "First thing:_ his name _is Tobias Hooper-Moriarty. And secondly, we have fourteen cat beds in this flat."_

_"Twelve," Jim said, stubbornly ignoring the corrected name._

_The cat didn't answer to either, so Jim and Molly's constant bickering over what to call him was more for the sake of tradition than utility._

_"Sorry, boss, it's definitely fourteen," Seb said, dishing up a plate for Jim before Molly noticed her boyfriend was sneaking food off of hers and was forced to beat him to death with his own laptop._

_"Thank you, Sebbie," Molly said as she retrieved her plate, frowning slightly to find it somewhat less full than she remembered. Seb quickly offered to top up her mash, and Molly accepted with a brilliant smile._

_Jim made a sour face at the both of them, which was summarily ignored._

_"Fourteen beds," Molly said, gesturing around the flat with her fork. "And, tell me darling, where is Toby sleeping now?"_

_As one, the three turned to the armchair, where Toby was splayed out on his back, balls out (figuratively, as he was neutered), and happily pillowed on one of Jim's £1500 jackets._

_Jim clicked his tongue against his teeth. "That's my son," he said. "He has very discerning tastes."_

_"_ Our _son, thank you," Molly grumbled._

_Turning back to her, Jim leaned over and pressed a smacking kiss to Molly's cheek. "Quite right, Molly-my-bell."_

…

"So, raise your glasses to Mr and Mrs James Moriarty," Seb said, raising his own. "And to a lifetime of joint adventures."

In the flurry of toasting, Jim caught Seb's eye, dipping his chin just slightly to indicate a job well done. Seb hid his smile behind his glass.

The toast finished, the party was set to start in earnest. Before the newlyweds went to greet their guests, Molly stopped to give Seb a hug, kissing him on the cheek. "It was a beautiful speech," she said, eyes glittering.

"Guess I get to live after all, hmm?"

"Oh Sebbie," Molly kissed him on the other cheek for good measure. "As if I'd let Jim have you assassinated."

He was oddly touched by the sentiment. Now, if he could only score an introduction to one or two of Molly's nurse friends, it would be a perfect end to the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your (skull printed) pants! There is a part two coming!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, I was not kidding about the skulls. This is all for this fic, but I have many more stories planned for this universe. There's a teeny bit of setup for The Plot in this one, if you squint. ^.~
> 
> And THANK YOU for all your lovely comments from part 1! I wiggled in joy reading each one.

"Oh, I don't know about this," Mrs Hudson said, pausing to sip from her wine glass. The old dear was halfway in her cups already, and Molly had to press her lips together to suppress a smile. "All these skulls. It's not very proper for a wedding, is it?"

Molly twisted her hips back and forth, pleasure singing through her as the skirt of her original Vivienne Westwood wedding gown rustled with the movement. It was clear that Mrs Hudson had yet to notice the embroidered skull at Molly's waist near where the fabric was decoratively gathered. It was a subtle addition, off-white against the bright white taffeta, but Vivienne had been delighted and inspired by their wedding theme. _And for Jim's fiancée_ , she'd told Molly at the fitting, _nothing ordinary will do_.

Not that she didn't get Mrs Hudson's point; they certainly hadn't skimped on the thematic element. There were skulls on the tables, strung in garlands across the walls, and in spun sugar on the cake. At least Molly had vetoed the ones with the heart shaped eye sockets. Now _that_ would have just been tacky.

"It seemed appropriate," Molly said, idly toying with her skull-shaped engagement ring and the new addition of a wedding band fashioned like a pair of crossed bones ("because you're _poisonous_ ," Jim had whispered joyfully when he slipped it on her finger). "Since I'm a pathologist and Jim's … um, you know, because of Jim's work."

"What was it you said he did again?"

Molly glanced at Mrs Hudson's wine glass and decided that she wasn't nearly inebriated enough for the truth. "Consulting. He, um … helps people. To solve their problems." She pasted on a smile. "He's very good at it."

Much to Molly's relief, Mrs Hudson didn't ask for clarification, just nodded sagely and grabbed her arm in a half-formed hug. "He's such a lovely young man, Molly," she gushed. "Oop! I mean, Mrs Moriarty. You've done quite well for yourself."

Faint praise considering Mrs Hudson's own choice of husband, but Molly still flushed with pleasure at the assessment. "Yes, I have," she said, eyes seeking out her groom, who was at the buffet table with Seb and… Molly blinked a couple times to make sure she was actually seeing what she was seeing.

"It's too bad the boys couldn't come," Mrs Hudson said, looking a bit mournful (although that could have been due to her emptied glass).

Molly cringed. "Actually… I didn't invite them."

"Oh, yes. Probably for the best." Mrs Hudson patted her arm. "Sherlock's not very good at this sort of thing, is he?"

"He does have a penchant for starting trouble," Molly said. "And under the circumstances…"

Mrs Hudson sniffed. "Quite right, dear. But at least there's one Holmes who knows how to behave in public."

Molly glanced again at the buffet table. "Yes. I really should go say hello."

…

Seb watched the Five Foot Fury wind her way through the crowd of guests, looking resplendent in white. She slowed very briefly as she passed her friend Meena, who was canoodling with Jim's second favorite sniper, then shook her head and continued on with a sly smile.

"Incoming," he murmured to the boss.

"Well, as delightful as this has been," Jim said, not missing a beat, "we'll have to work out the details some other time."

Holmes didn't have a chance to answer before Molly was upon them. "Jim, darling," she said with a saccharine smile, "I know you're not doing business at my wedding."

Jim's eyes widened in a perfect expression of innocence that fooled no one. "Of course not, _darling_ ," he said. "The business part was already done before the wedding."

Molly didn't look the slightest bit impressed with Jim's clever workaround. But a moment later, she frowned thoughtfully. "Oh!" she said. "So that's what happened to your new Korean friend."

Jim's Korean "friend" was actually an organized crime boss (and something of a rival) whom MI-6 had wanted to get their hands on for months now.

"Yes," Mycroft Holmes drawled. "Well. I can see this arrangement is going to work out quite nicely. In no small part thanks to you, Miss- ah, forgive me, Mrs Moriarty."

Jim kissed her loudly on the cheek, beaming.

Molly opened her mouth, closed it, narrowed her eyes at her new husband, and said, "You cut a deal with Mycroft?"

"Yep. We're in cahoots now," Jim said cheerfully.

"As it transpires," Mycroft cut in through gritted teeth. "There are many areas where our interests overlap."

Jim slipped an arm around Molly's waist, scratching absently behind his ear with his other hand. "One in particular."

With a frown, Molly chose to intervene lest Jim sass his way into a secret prison. Again. "Jim's not interested in Sherlock anymore."

"Turns out he's boooring."

Seb had to admire the way Mycroft maintained his poise, in spite of just learning that the concessions he'd made during their negotiations to get Jim to agree to leave his little brother alone had been wholly unnecessary. Shifting his umbrella to the crook of his elbow, he gave the couple a tight smile and said, "I see. Time I was off, I think."

"Oh no," Molly said. " _Do_ stay for cake."

Mycroft blinked. "If you insist."

The smile Molly directed at Sherlock's brother was as false as it was brilliant. Jim stepped between them before she had a chance to reply, already tugging her towards the dance floor as he said, "Come dance with me, _Jefa_."

"Oh my God, Jim. I told you, we are not making that a thing," Molly said even as she let him lead them away.

"Too late," Jim sang in return.

Seb shifted on his feet, habit settling him into a military stance. Beside him, he heard the distinctive click of Mycroft's umbrella against the floor as he set it down to lean on it. "The new Mrs Moriarty doesn't think much of me, does she?" Mycroft said idly. But underneath his cool facade, Seb thought he detected a hint of concern.

"Can't imagine why," Seb said, watching his boss and his wife dance towards a secluded corner. Like Molly, Seb wasn't fond of the man who'd once abducted and tortured Jim, in spite of the fact that Jim himself had allowed the whole thing to happen. But, he didn't have to like Jim's decision to ally with Mycroft to understand the value of it.

"There's no need to keep an eye on me, you know," Mycroft pointed out.

Seb glanced over at him and narrowed his eyes at that snake oil smile. "Sir," he said neutrally, his Southern accent creeping out a bit out of habit tied to the ingrained courtesy.

"Rest assured, Mr Spencer, I've no intention of arresting any more of the guest list today."

It was jarring to hear his real name dropped so casually, when he hadn't used it in years. The fucker certainly was as clever as advertised. And if he'd tracked down Seb's real identity, then he also knew the real names of everyone on Jim's guest list.

Not, Seb considered, that Jim would be terribly cut up if the lot of them got hauled off to some secret prison. He'd give even odds that Jim was hoping for just that outcome.

Seb scowled as he swept his gaze over the room again and realized that Jim and Molly had disappeared, undoubtedly into an empty room for some privacy.

Mycroft shifted closer and said in a low voice, "Go and keep an eye on them. That's what you do, isn't it?" In response to Seb's bewilderment, he added with some amusement, "In spite of Mrs Moriarty's feelings towards me, I do have a great deal of respect for her. And her security in this crowd is… shall we say, less than assured?"

That was Molly, Seb thought with a grin, as he loped off in search of his wayward boss and _La Jefa_. She did tend to have that effect on people.

…

"Don't think for a second that you're off the hook with this Mycroft thing," Molly said while looping her arms around her husband and starting the steps of a waltz.

"Yes dear," Jim said, heavy with sarcasm.

Molly bit her lip, darting a glance back at the man in question (and Seb standing guard). Jim thumbed the pinched flesh, and she released it, sparing him a distracted smile. "I just… you don't have to do this."

"No," Jim agreed while he casually waltzed them towards the door. "But playing games with the Holmes boys _is_ getting rather dull, and it always did mean the possibility that we'd have to pick up in the night and leave for a non-extradition country."

"Oh, Jamie," Molly breathed. The hand on his shoulder fluttered up to cup his cheek. "You know I'd go anywhere with you. That's what I signed up for."

His fingers walked playfully up the back of her neck, bared by her updo. "But you'd hate it if we did. San Lorenzo is appallingly low on dead bodies that need to be cut up; there wouldn't be much there for you to occupy your time."

"Oh stop, Jim," Molly said with a sniffle. He could be so dreadfully sweet, and it got to her every time. "I'll ruin my eyeliner."

Jim smiled at her, equal parts smug and affectionate. "Yes, dear." He dropped out of their embrace, grabbing her hand instead, and said, "Come with me." Only then did Molly realize they hadn't actually been dancing for some minutes, since they'd arrived at the door to the hall.

"We are not sneaking off for a shag, James Moriarty!" Molly hissed under her breath as they ducked through the door, Jim all but dragging her along to the small dressing room just down the way.

"It is tradition," Jim said, pausing to snag her about the waist and kiss her briefly but firmly, leaving Molly a little dazed as she blindly followed him into the room.

The soft snick of the door shutting them in knocked her back to her senses. "To hell with tradition," Molly said, crossing her arms. "We are not wrinkling my Westwood. And before you get any ideas, I am literally sewn into this thing, so it's not like I can just slip it off for a quickie."

"Yes, heaven forbid we crease the Westwood," Jim said, rolling his eyes upwards. That brought memories of their engagement night to both their minds, when they'd thoroughly debauched Jim's favorite suit in the bathroom of his nightclub. "Oh nevermind that," he added quickly before Molly could renew her protests, reaching into the pocket of his new favorite Westwood suit. "I got you something."

He withdrew a flat, black velvet box, the kind for earrings, and held it out. Molly took it gingerly, and Jim slipped both hands into his pockets, watching her intently but betraying nothing in his expression.

She turned it over in her hands. "I didn't get you anything."

Jim's mouth turned upwards, dark eyes sparkling like obsidian. "Yes, you di~d," he sang softly.

Flushing, Molly flipped open the lid and squeaked. Each earring was a 3D skull carved from a white pearl, and topped with a finely wrought silver crown. "Oh! They're lovely!" she cried, slipping them out of the box.

She'd opted not to wear earrings for the ceremony, since she felt sufficiently decked out between the tiara holding her veil and the diamond necklace Jim had bought her for her birthday. It didn't surprise her one bit that Jim would have known, in spite of the fact that the details of her wedding attire were meant to be a mystery before the big day.

Jim took the empty box from her, setting it aside while Molly threaded the wire loops into her ears. He caught her chin in one hand, twisting her face to the side so he could press a kiss to the skin just by her ear. "Meant for a queen," he murmured, sliding her head back around, his lips dragging across her cheek to connect with hers.

Looping her arms around his neck, Molly dragged him closer, kissing him back, fiercely happy. "I love you," she gasped when they finally broke for air.

He exhaled slowly, eyes still closed, and tilted his head all the way to the side, tucking his forehead against her neck. At her waist, his fingers tightened convulsively. "My Queen," he said, the words wafting across her decolletage like a benediction.

Molly's hands clutched at his shoulders, while she seriously reconsidered her stance on wrinkling her Westwood.

A quiet beat, and Jim suddenly lifted his head, a frown set on his brow as he looked down at her front. "How long is it going to take to get this thing off?"

Molly giggled. "Aren't you meant to be some sort of genius?" she said. "I'm sure it won't take you more than an hour."

Jim tossed her an irked glare, but a knock on the door cut him off. "It's me," Seb called. "They're looking for you. Time to cut the cake."

"I suppose we should," Jim drawled. "Lest Holmes the Eldest starts a riot."

"Or Meena," Molly agreed, as Jim wrapped an arm over her shoulders to lead them back.

"But lets do it for Sebbie," Jim concluded, cheekily winking at his second-in-command when they passed. "He's dying to get this over with and shuffle us off."

"And have two whole weeks of peace and quiet with y'all away on your honeymoon?" Seb said, entirely unrepentant, "You better bet I am."


	3. Bonus Wedding Night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen up. You guys are SO AMAZING with your lovely comments that you MADE ME do this. I've just been blown away by the feedback on this fic, so thank you~!

"Ji-im," Molly squeaked, "Be careful! Don't cut my dress!"

"Stop wig-gl-ing, and maybe I won't," he said from down around her chest.

Unfortunately for the newlyweds, Jim wasn't on his knees in front of her to get reacquainted with his wife's assets after their superstitious night of separation. Rather, he was still in the delicate process of removing her wedding gown, a procedure that was turning out to be on par with brain surgery, as far as Jim was concerned.

"Remind me what I did to Viv," he said, feeling with his fingertips for the last minute adjustments that Vivienne's tailor had made, sewing Molly into the bodice of her dress. "This is vengeance for something, I know it."

He paused thoughtfully, tapping the small sewing scissors in his other hands to his lips. "It really is rather vicious. I do have to give the old bat props."

Molly swatted him on the shoulder in good humor. "Don't call her that; she's lovely, and you love her." Jim made a noise to indicate that while that might be true normally, it certainly wasn't at the moment. "And it isn't revenge. Vivienne wanted everything to be perfect, that's all." She gave another little wiggle, this one in pure joy, her dress rustling with the movement. "And it did turn out simply beautiful, admit it."

Jim rolled his head back, fingers digging into Molly's hip to urge her to be still. "Yes, dear," he said in monotone. "You are even more stunning than usual. But next time Viv makes you a dress, it had better be a sack. Easy on, easy _off_ , and you'll be just as pretty, I promise."

"Oh you." Molly giggled, cupping her palms over his cheeks and bending down to plant a kiss on his mouth. Jim clamped a hand at the back of her neck, deepening the kiss to their mutual satisfaction. "I love you, you know," she said when she pulled away. "But really, when are we going to have occasion to hire Vivienne to make me another dress?"

His eyes, glittering up at her, said more than he ever would with words. "Oh, any celebration will do," he said, mouth twisting into a wicked smile. "An anniversary. Our eventual world domination…"

Molly bit her lip, grinning back as she tapped a finger against the tip of his nose. "A christening?" she said, pronouncing each syllable distinctly.

Jim took her hand, turning it to put a kiss into the hollow of her palm. "Not for a year," he said, all playfulness swept away.

Not to be deterred from her good humor, Molly hummed lightly. "Yes, it'll take about that."

"Molly-my-bell." His hands twined at her waist, into the folds of fabric that swept around her bodice, urging her closer. His next kiss landed about at her bellybutton. "You have to wait."

Molly ran her fingers through his hair, destroying what was left of that morning's careful styling. "Okay," she said pleasantly. "We'll have plenty of time to practice, then." Molly paused while Jim leaned back again so he could look at her, one very interested eyebrow raised nearly to his hairline. She smirked, and shifted to mock concern, "We _are_ going to practice, aren't we?"

Jim chuckled, shaking his head a little at her antics. "Quite a lot, I should think." His smile dropped away a moment later as a frown furrowed his brow. "Don't you want to know why?"

"Hmm." Molly shook her head after a beat, still sifting her fingers through his hair. "You said it was important. That's all I need to know." Her fingertips tripped over the planes of his face, a thoroughly pleased smile lighting her up from within. "You're mine now," she said.

Jim licked his lips, staring up at her much like a man receiving a benediction from his personal goddess.

Or his Queen.

"Yes," he croaked. He shut his eyes, squeezing them tightly closed for a moment, then opened them again and said in his normal drawl, "Darling, as you do love me…"

Her ethereal smile morphed into a downright wicked smirk. "Do you need a hint?" she said, cocking her head to one side. Molly waited a beat for Jim to answer, and when he merely watched her in silent expectation, she added, "You have to say it."

Jim drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He smoothed a hand down her hip, the fabric of her dress crinkling audibly, and found the curve of her thigh. A pleased smile touched his mouth as Molly's quiet gasp.

"I _desperately_ want to fuck my wife," he said. Molly's pupils dilated, and her mouth dropped open as her breath quickened. "Please will you fix it for me, Mrs Moriarty?"

"Oh god," Molly gasped under her breath. She fumbled at her bodice, "It was right about here…"

Obediently, Jim snipped the stitches Molly indicated and tossed the scissors over his shoulder as he stood. "Turn around." Jim's lips found the nape of her neck while he unhooked her necklace.

When his fingers brushed her ears, moving to push the wires out of her lobes, Molly make a noise. "No, leave them," she said breathlessly.

"If you want," he murmured, kissing the hollow behind her ear and working his way down as his fingers found the line of buttons marching down her back and started to undo them from the top. One of them felt different from the others, and Jim pulled back for a look. "Some of these are skulls," he said.

"Mm-hm." Molly clutched her bodice to her chest, keeping the dress from falling as Jim's nimble fingers worked open the rest of her buttons. She sighed when he touched his lips to the skin between her shoulders. "Jim?"

"Yes?" he replied before running his tongue along the sharp jut of her shoulder blade.

"You know how I said I didn't get you anything?"

She could feel the answering smile. "Yes." Jim parted her dress to press a kiss to her spine. "You." He moved lower, darting his tongue out to taste the skin at the small of her back. "Did."

Molly reached back. "Come here," she said, drawing him around to stand in front of her. Molly dropped her chin, looking at her new husband through her lashes as she traced her tongue along the rim of her upper lip. "It's not a proper gift, but I do have something I think you'll appreciate." And she dropped her dress, stepping out of it to stand before him in nothing but her new earrings and a lacy set of knickers.

Black, silver, and _red_ knickers.

Jim rocked back on his heels, rubbing his index finger over his lower lip as he took in every detail with great interest. Molly knew the moment he noticed, because his hand fell from his face and he had to reach down to adjust his suddenly very uncomfortable trousers.

"Mrs Moriarty," Jim said, his scold utterly ruined by the squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat. "I'm positively scandalized. Do you mean to tell me you waltzed _in_ _to a_ _church_ , in front of God and everyone we know, wearing crotchless knickers?"

Molly put a hand on her hip. "Is that a problem, Mr Moriarty?"

"Oh, yes," he purred, stalking forward to twine his arms around her. He slid his palms down her back, the tips of his fingers just pushing under the lace band of Molly's pants. "All day you've been keeping a _naughty_ little secret," he pulled her flush against him, nudging his lips against hers but not quite descending into a proper kiss. "And you didn't share. I'm _devastated_."

"I didn't…" Molly trailed off with a gasp, wiggling to get even closer and slide her arms inside his jacket, where she impatiently tugged his shirt free of his trousers and slipped her hands up under it to touch her skin to his. "I didn't want to make things, um, hard for you."

Jim groaned – only partially from Molly's pun – and nipped at her lips once more before tilting his head to settle his mouth firmly against hers. She hummed happily low in her throat, digging her fingers into his back and taking charge of the kiss. Jim was perfectly content to follow her lead while he lifted his hands off her just enough to remove his skull-shaped cufflinks, letting the heavy pieces of metal fall to the floor with a pair of audible thumps.

"Get on the bed," Molly murmured, already guiding them that direction.

His hands moved to her hair and began divesting it of the pins holding it up. Jim touched his lips to the pinnacle of her cheek and the corner of her eye before coming to rest by the shell of her ear. "There's no rush," he replied in kind.

Her head tipped back, baring her neck to him while the little pearl skulls hanging from her ears swung gently back and forth. "You're so handsome in your Westwood," she said with a sigh. "Will you leave it on?"

Jim ran his thumbs along the seam under her breasts, where he knew she was the most sensitive. "You are a menace to my suits, woman," he grumbled.

Molly leaned back, leveling her gaze at him in a silent pout.

Her husband couldn't suppress his laughter. "But of course," he added, eyes gleaming. "You can have me any way you want me, Mrs Moriarty."

"Oh yes," Molly said gleefully, pushing him back onto the bed and crawling over him, her clever fingers already working at his belt. "You're mine now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to put this in the last chapter's notes, but here are [Molly's earrings](https://www.etsy.com/listing/397820035/carved-pearl-skull-with-crowns-dangle?ref=shop_home_active_5)!


End file.
